


The Night We Met

by mockingjayne



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: A different take on how Wyatt and Lucy could have met that night if circumstances had been a bit different.
Relationships: Wyatt Logan & Lucy Preston, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	The Night We Met

Walking through the door of her mother’s house, a sigh of relief escapes Lucy, a rough day working its way through every muscle of her body. Her eyes flutter closed, resting her head against the thick wood of the door behind her, supporting the weight rooting her to the ground she walks. Her bag slips from her shoulder, tugging on her arm.

A deep sigh, steeling her nerves for what comes next. Opening her eyes, the same home she’d been walking into for years, having left once upon a time, only to move back when her mom had gotten sick, takes shape before her.

Walking the stairs slowly, as if she were dragging her feet each step to the image that was sure to meet her, she reaches for the snickers she’d stopped and gotten on her way home.

“Any changes?” She asks, coming into the room to her mother, sleeping, as always, the pain riddling through her body, only dissipating with a heavy dose of meds. Her sister sitting by her side.

“Not since you left,” she replies, and although she knows the biting tone isn’t meant for her, it’s there.

“Hey, Mom,” she greets, setting the candy bar on the nightstand where the rest of them reside, a routine she hadn’t lost even after her mother had long since been able to eat them. Leaning over, she places a kiss on her forehead, before the two girls head back down to the kitchen, the youngest Preston needing a break.

Amy plants herself on the stool across the island as Lucy looks for a glass of wine, knowing exactly where such a bottle exists that’ll do the trick to wash away this day.

“Starting early tonight?” Amy teases with a raise of her brow, and Lucy narrows her eye at her younger sister.

“Yep,” she pops her lips, not wanting to further explain.

“Come on, you know you’re going to tell me,” Amy motions with her hands, reaching for the bottle to uncork it, more likely not to spill the entire bottle all over the place like she would.

Lucy remains quiet, waiting for her glass to be poured, Amy opting not to pour her own.

Swirling the liquid around, she takes a generous sip, the bitter taste trickling down her throat, soothing the sting of rejection coursing through her.

“I didn’t get tenure,” Lucy admits, bringing her glass down, before quickly taking another sip.

“Are you kidding? Who’s more qualified than you?” Amy spurts out, and Lucy knows she’s right, there’s no one. “I told you you should’ve taken that job in Ohio,” Amy says in her I-told-you-so voice.

“And what? Just leave mom? You?” She says with a scrunch of her face, taking another sip, her glass almost empty.

“Well then, quit. You deserve better anyway,” she offers, and Lucy can’t help the hint of a smile that flitters across her lips. Her sister had always been the one to encourage her to follow her own path even with their mother’s withering stare suggested otherwise.

“Right, and we’ll all just live off your podcast?” She throws out with a laugh, Amy sliding the insult off her shoulders.

“I just think you deserve better,” Amy admits, the sincerity in her words doing little to ease Lucy’s doubts.

“Thanks,” she says, holding her drink up, a salude, before downing the last of her wine.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re going out,” Amy announces, placing her hands on the island and pushing herself up from her seat.

“I am not going out to a bar with you,” Lucy shrugs, not having the energy for that.

“Fine, what do you want to do?”

“Curl up in bed and read,” Lucy says with a wistful whine to her voice.

“No, no way. You can not be that lame. I’m calling Michael and we’re going out.”

“But A—Amy, I don’t want to go out with you and your boyfriend, I’m fine,” Lucy leans her head back, a full on whine now trailing her words.

“Too late, it’s a done deal. The hospital has that fall carnival going on, and we’re going,” she teases with practically a skip in her step.

“What about Mom?”

“I’m already calling the nurse. You’re out of excuses, you’re going,” she hears echoing down the stairs.

With another sigh, Lucy picks up the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass. Convinced she was going to need more than one glass to survive this night.

“How about I don’t want to?” she huffs.

xxxxx

“Amy, how is this any less lame than my plans?” She asks as they pull up to bright lights twinkling all around them, more smiling people scattered across the parking lot than this area had probably seen in a long time.

“Because it doesn’t involve you alone with a bottle of wine,” she throws back, and Lucy holds back the roll of her eyes.

“Come on, it’s for charity, it can’t be that bad. And if you really hate it, we can leave,” she says, lowering her head to meet Lucy’s eyes, begging with a slight tug on her arms. She can see the hope in her eyes, the need to have one carefree night, if nothing else, than to pretend they were still kids again, free from their responsibilities, disappointments.

“Fine,” Lucy sighs. “But you owe me funnel cake,” she points at her with a smirk.

“Jeez, so bossy,” Amy says, grabbing onto her finger, and dragging into the crowded gates of what she promised would be fun.

They find Michael quickly, and Amy practically runs into his arms squealing, as Lucy averts her eyes, blushing at the obvious display of affection.

“Hi Lucy,” he greets, a hand held up, Amy cuddled into the curve of his side.

“Hey,” she nods, a barely there smile breaking her lips at the man that made Amy happy. He was good for her, seemed to ground her just a bit. The exact opposite of what Lucy needed.

Pulling her jacket closer around her, she’s aware, not for the first time, that she’s alone at this carnival.

“So what do you want to do first?” Michael asks them, as they weave through the throngs of people, strollers threatening to take out Lucy at every step.

Tripping, she stumbles just a little as the two of them walk ahead of her, and she trails behind.

“The ferris wheel?” Lucy says, looking up at the structure teetering above them. Its bright lights inviting all to gaze into the sky, leaving their problems on the ground and venture up into empty space. But the small cart enclosing them looked iffy to her, and her mind wandered to how quickly this was built, and all the safety issues that could arise.

“Come on, Lucy,” Amy calls back to her, and she’s sure that an expression of absolute dread is worn all over her face.

xxxxx

“You know, maybe I’ll just wait over there until you’re done,” Lucy points, as they stand in a long line of people waiting to sit in a seat that dangled above the ground, only a bar separating them falling to their death.

“No, come on, have some fun, Lucy,” Amy title her head, a dramatic jut of her hip suggesting that it was something Lucy was incapable of doing.

“I can have fun,” she says, emphasizing the word in an odd cadence that always made Amy smile. “Yeah, I can do this,” she nearly whispers to herself.

The three of them turning another corner in the line to be met with a sign:

**SINGLES WILL BE PAIRED**

Lucy can’t help but see her sister and her boyfriend snickering with laughter as they hold hands in front of her when they see what they’ve all just read.

“Okay,” Lucy says, moving to leave, her wrist grabbed to stop her.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate,” Amy teases, bumping her with her hip.

“Or maybe I’ll go sit—“

“Oh, Michael tell her about the doctor,” she excitedly wiggles her brow at the suggestion of a possible setup. The last one having gone terribly. They’d texted for exactly a day before he’d completely stopped. They hadn’t even made it to an actual date.

“His name’s Noah—“

Lucy stopped listening after that, just nodding her head, looking every which way. Her day having gone so terribly wrong, and here she was miserably stuck at a carnival that was proving to further depress her rather than lift her spirits.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah, sure,” she answers, and that seems to be what they wanted to hear, the two of them seemingly pleased that she’d agreed to what was sure to be another dating disaster.

xxxxx

Moving further up in the line, it seemed to then cut in two, one for pairs and one for singles.

“I guess this is me,” she motions with a deep sigh, shaking her head as she heads over to what could only be described as the saddest line of people, either like her, ditched as the third wheel or worse…hoping to actually pick someone up at one of these things.

Pulling out her phone, she pretends to busy herself, writing out a text to Jonas about her frustration with tenure, and quickly deleting it before hitting send. The line growing behind her, more lonely souls having to admit to such.

“So, I guess you and I are going to be quite the pair tonight,” she hears, looking around to find the man in back of her speaking.

He was incredibly tall, a thick accent covering his words.

“Excuse me?” She asks, looking around, wishing that the ground would just swallow her whole.

“You and I will be paired together,” he says with a raise of his brow, gesturing between the two of them, and she leans over the chain to see for herself if that were true. And sure enough, the two of them were coupled.

“Looks that way,” she nods, going back to her phone, hoping that this was the quickest ride in history.

But he doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“It’ll be quite a ride,” he says, and she swears his brow twitches, like there’s a suggestion there.

“I actually don’t like ferris wheels,” she says, stepping a little closer to the front of the line to put a little more distance between them.

“I think you will,” he suggests, the implication that he knew her better than herself leaving her with a twisting feeling in her gut.

“Next two,” the bored teenager says reaching for their tickets, the strange man behind her, stepping forward.

“You know, I think…I’ll just…yeah, I don’t really—“

“Oh there you are…baby…doll,” the awkward response coming from another man moving to stand next to Lucy, shooting a wink her way. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and she stood stunned in place at his gesture. “We’ll wait for the next one,” he says with a smirk towards the tall man.

“You’re in the singles line,”the narrowing stare coming from the rejected man attempting to wither away her response, as if angry that he were being discouraged. It had her jump to her senses, deciding to play along.

“Are we? I didn’t even notice,” her arm reaches out, coming to rest on the kind stranger’s muscular waist, a big crinkled smile painting to her face as she looks at the man with the ocean eyes. This seems to only prompt him to put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she’s resting comfortable against him, soaking up every ounce of warmth he had to offer.

“I was just about to text you…sweetheart,” she claims, glancing back over at the disgruntled man who reluctantly found himself getting into the little cart with the man behind them, who’d clearly been outnumbered with his kids and forced to ride alone.

The sight of the two men beginning their ride together, enough to give her a real, genuine laugh, not caring in the least that she stood there still entangled with a man she’d never met before.

xxxxx

The stranger’s arm leaves her shoulders once the cart carrying her pursuer is out of sight, and she tries not to shiver at the loss of warmth. Pulling her own arm away, she wraps it around herself, an unconscious attempt to trap the feeling she felt at that moment for just a second longer.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You just looked…”

“Wildly panicked?” She finishes for him, and he gives her a smirk that she swears under any other circumstance might annoy her, but he’d just saved her from what could’ve been a night gone even more horribly wrong. “Thank you. Although, I could’ve handled it myself, you know?”

“I have no doubt, ma’am,” he nods, that smirk never leaving his mouth, and she finds her own smirk mirroring his.

“Next two,” they hear, stepping up to the cart, and suddenly her slight annoyance dissipates and every fear she’d had from before comes screaming back to her, as the wobbly cart looms before her.

She’s not even aware that he’d stepped in front of her until he’s offering his hand out to her, helping her into the cart. Lucy swears he can actually hear her erratically beating heart, and if that wasn’t evidence enough, the shake in her hand certainly gave her away.

Once settled in, the metal bar in place, she closes her eyes, her hands clenched into fists to the point of her knuckles appearing ghostly white, until the machine jumps to life, and she finds herself flinching. Her eyes fly open, a blind panic surging through her, caught in a tight space, unable to escape, as she goes higher and higher. She can feel the night air stealing her breath from her.

She doesn’t expect his hand to wrap around her fist, gently plying her hand open, but on reflex it snaps back shut, this time, grabbing onto his hand, her fingernails digging into his palm.

“…alone?” She hears, as if underwater, unable to make out everything, the word seeming miles away, drowning in the distance.

“Huh?” Lucy asks, shaking her head.

“Did you come here alone?” He asks again, this time all the words making it to her, albeit slowly.

She swallows, attempting to clear her scratchy throat. The imbalance of having had her eyes closed throws her off, and she shakes her head in response.

“No,” she shakily answers.

“Oh, so you were just ditched too?” He tries to tease, and a hint of a smile tugs at her lips.

“Something like that,” she breathily gets out, daring to look down as they travel higher, and immediately regretting it. “Wow, you’d think these things would have seatbelts. I mean, I know they were invented in 1893, but you’d think they’d have implemented more safety features since then,” she nervously laughs, her grip getting tighter on his hand.

And he follows suit with a laugh of his own at her rambling.

“You just have to get your mind off of it,” he suggests. Easier said than done.

“Yeah, trying,” she grits out.

“Well, what’s your name?” He asks, an innocent enough question.

“If I tell you, will you stop calling me ‘ma’am’?” Her eyes turn to meet his, and that same smirk from before graces his lips, curling his cheek to the point of revealing a dimple at her question.

“Not likely…ma’am.” This time it comes out as more of an endearment than a pleasantry ingrained in him.

“Lucy,” she says, and she swears his thumb resting on across her knuckles traces the letters of her name out onto her skin.

“I’m Wyatt,” he responds, and she nods, slowly, not wanting to jostle the cart in any way.

“Oh, I shouldn’t be here,” she whispers to herself, but in such close quarters, he hears her, the wind refusing to steal hers words.

“Talking to a stranger 200 feet in the air? Yeah, me either.”

“Where then?” She asks, and his brow furrows at her question. “Where should you be?”

“In my apartment with a bottle of whisky,” he replies with a raise of his brow.

“Same, except with wine…or vodka. Yeah, it is definitely a vodka night,” she says with a sway of her head, getting a little more comfortable, her grip a little less strangling on him. Her breath evening. “So why are you here then?” Curiosity winning out.

“Ahh, well, my friend Rufus wanted me to be his wingman. He’s had a crush on this woman he works with, and I’m supposed to be the buffer if he chickens out,” he explains with a laugh.

“And then he ditched you,” she finishes for him.

“Didn’t turn out too badly,” he nudges her slightly with his shoulder.

“The night’s still young, I could—“ she teases, until their cart comes to a stop, and they find themselves at the very top, frozen, suspended in the air.

The panic from before, once assuaged by the charm of the man beside her, is now back, as she stares out into the night, lights glittering everywhere, the sky black, and nothing but the sound of her heavy, panicked breathing.

“Hey,” he calls her attention, and she tentatively looks his way, her eyes wide with fear. “Focus on me,” she nods, her wild eyes searching his for the calm blue, the steady tide of breath, in and out. “There you go,” she breathes along with him, until the wheel jerks into motion again, and she jumps. “Hey, hey,” her free hand coming to grip his shirt.

He tilts in his seat, his hand coming to flatten her palm until it was steadily placed against him, the gentle thump of his heart against her palm giving her something to focus on.

“The first time I was deployed, I was scared out of my mind. The idea of being responsible for not just myself, but a team of people who were counting on me to do my job correctly, it was terrifying. But if you let it get to you, let it take over, that’s it, you’re done,” Lucy concentrates his words, the way he punctuates each word, softly crafting his words in their rough nature into one of genuine concern, keeping in time with the beat of his heart, the cadence steadying her in her seat, tethering her in the sky, until she finds herself keeping time with him.

“So what did you do?” Her words come out in a whisper, not wanting to interrupt the rhythm they’d created.

“I let the fear in, just for a second, let it race through me like a lightning bolt. And then I thought about what I was there to do, the reason I was fighting, and that became more important than the fear,” he finishes, and her eyes flutter open, only then realizing that she’d closed them to let his words wash over her.

She finds her face had moved dangerously close to his lips, as if searching them out for the warmth, the calm that he promised. The fight for something more important than the fear and disappointment that ate at her.

“And now you’re fearless?” She asks, her eyes flickering to his lips, as his heart picks up, breaking the rhythm into something much faster.

“Not quite,” he grins.

And she swears in that moment time stood still, her mind quieting the past, leaving her suspended in the now, with nothing but a future constructed out of tomorrows with this man.

She’s not sure when she leaned the rest of the way in until her lips touched his, her grip loosening around his hand for deft fingers to entangle in his short hair, his own thumb brushing the hair from her forehead, but her palm never leaving the chest of the heart that she was threatening to take as her own with the most fragile of care.

The rotation of the night feels weightless to her now, the sky nothing but a backdrop to a night she hadn’t wanted to partake in, and now found herself unmasked among the hidden stars, the taste of promise on her tongue.

It’s only when the ride stops the bored teenager suddenly entertained, does she drop her hands, a dark blush covering her cheeks, and that same smirk painting Wyatt’s swollen lips, that she’s hit with what happened.

A look of wonder stares back at her, and she averts her eyes, feeling like a teenager all over again. She’s prepared to part ways, sure that maybe she had misread the situation, until he grabs her hand, helping her off the ride.

Leading her to the side, they wait for their friends, the pairs line much longer than theirs had been, his hand dropping her, much to his dismay, shoving his hands into his pockets.

They stand in silence, stealing glances out of the corner of each other’s eyes.

“So you’re a…soldier?” She asks, thinking back to the story he had told.

“Something like that,” he shrugs. “You?”

“History professor,” she replies, matter of factly.

“I should’ve guessed,” and she scrunches her face. “So about that kiss,” he starts.

“Lucy!” They hear, her sister calling for her near the entrance.

“My sister,” she gestures.

“Right. I should uhh, probably go look for Rufus and Jiya - hope that he didn’t throw up on her or something,” and a loud laugh erupts from her.

“That’s a legitimate concern?” She asks through her giggles.

“You haven’t met Rufus,” he chides.

“So…I guess we should say goodbye,” she suggests, glancing back at Amy waiting for her.

He pauses, and she thinks she’s said something wrong, his hand coming to the back of his head, as if stressed.

“I’m not really ready to say goodbye just yet,” his words shy, but sincere, a first she’d seen from him tonight. The honesty of the moment feeling real.

“Is that so?” She grins at him, biting her bottom lip.

“How do you feel about funnel cake?” He asks, and her grin turns into a full blown smile.

“I could be open to the possibility,” she says with a tilted nod, her own dimples peeking out. Extending his hand, waiting for her to decide, she slips her fingers between his, this time her grip gentle, full of want and need not fear.

“Lead the way, baby…doll,” the sound of her laughter echoing through the night, as the two of them walk hand in hand towards fate.


End file.
